


Masters and Mistresses

by Geonn



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, BDSM, Bondage, Comfort Sex, Crossover Pairings, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Episode: s02e01 A Scandal in Belgravia, Episode: s03e12 The Sound of Drums, Episode: s03e13 Last of the Time Lords, Episode: s04e17-e18 The End of Time, Exhibitionism, F/F, Foot Fetish, Missing Scene, Multi, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Voyeurism, Year That Never Was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 05:45:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucy Saxon discovers an outlet for her passions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masters and Mistresses

The sun cut across the floor of the parlor, making a slow trek across the floor. Lucy's cup tapped against its saucer and, try though she might, she couldn't make it steady. The auburn beauty seated beside her smiled beatifically and lowered her cup to the coffee table. She slid closer, her left thigh pressing intimately against Lucy's left. Kate steadied the saucer with one hand, telling Lucy with her eyes that it was okay. She slipped her finger through the curled handle and lifted the cup to Lucy's lips. Lucy kept her eyes open and locked on Kate as she drank, making a quiet sound of satisfaction when she was done. Kate lowered the cup to the saucer, then bent to place it on the coffee table beside hers. When she straightened, she folded her hands in her lap.

"So, Lady Lucy. How would you like to be beaten?"

~*~

No orders or requests were given in the private chambers. The only command that was followed was the rarely-used safe word. Irene didn't like safe words, but understood their necessity. She relied on Kate to give her the necessary information from her clients. What was wanted, what was desired, what was truly needed but couldn't be asked for. Irene sat in her dressing gown, legs crossed, silk forming a V that revealed the inside of her breasts. Her lips curled in a small grin as Kate stood before her like a soldier, legs crossed at the ankles, hands behind her back, eyes locked on Irene's as she spoke.

"She wants candle wax. She wishes to be bound and spanked. The cat-o'-nine-tails, a paddle, and bare-handed."

Irene noted the catch in Kate's breath. She smoothed her hands over the curled arms of her chair, tilting her head to the side. She knew it aroused Kate to report a client's needs this way, and Irene liked to make it last.

"Anything else?" she asked.

"She wants you to call her a good girl. She wishes to be your very good girl."

Irene smiled, showing her teeth. "I believe that can be arranged."

~*~

Lucy Saxon, wife of the Prime Minister of England, rested her blushing cheek against her bicep. Her wrists were bound to the headboard, hands just above her head and curled together as if in prayer. The Mistress brought the flogger down again, and it whistled through the air before glancing off of Lucy's bare rear end. Lucy tensed and hissed through her teeth, eyes tightly closed, and she said, "Thank you, Mistress Irene." Her knees were bent, her feet crossed under her bare, pink ass. A smooth and cold hand ran over the abused flesh, slipped between the cheeks and then down to where she was wet. Lucy bit her lip and whimpered as two slender fingers pushed into her.

"So very wet."

"Yes, Mistress," Lucy whispered.

Irene leaned forward, breasts soft against Lucy's back. She tickled Lucy's earlobe with her tongue, and whispered, "What a good girl."

Lucy shuddered.

~*~

Kate brought the camera up to her eye, framed the image, and very lightly depressed the button on top of the machine's frame. The mechanics of the thing whirred, and the image was saved. She lowered the camera, but only to shoulder height, and narrowed her eyes as she gazed through the mirror at the scene unfolding in Irene's bedchamber. It wasn't her official bedchamber, Kate knew. Irene's private moments, her slumbering moments, happened in small and quiet dark places. The only place Irene could be herself, a place only Kate had seen before. 

Irene prowled around the quaking blonde, the smooth and pale skin of the lucky girl's back becoming the canvas for Irene's prurient art. 

Kate released the camera with one hand, moving it to the front of her dress. She pressed her fingers against her mound and allowed herself one tiny moan of pleasure. She moved her fingers like a wave, a balm against her rising desire. Her nipples hardened against the whisper-soft silk of her blouse. She wouldn't come; Irene would take care of her afterward. Payment for her duty as photographer.

In the room, Irene lit a candle.

Behind the mirror, Kate snapped another photograph.

~*~

Irene rested in the bath. Her arms rested on the lip of the tub, hands dangling. Her eyes were closed. Occasionally she twisted her hips or moved her feet in order to make the water move across the hard peaks of her breasts. She imagined it was the tongue of a lover, too exhausted for true lovemaking but unable to resist a taste. She smiled and rocked her hips from side to side, creating a current that caressed her whole body.

High heels clicked on the tile and she opened her eyes to see Kate approaching. "The photos?"

"Came out beautifully, as always." Kate sat upon the edge of the tub and lowered her hand into the water. She stroked Irene's thighs, then up to the crux. Irene parted her lips silently and brushed her fingers over Kate's thigh. She opened her eyes, giving permission, and Kate went to work.

~*~

Kate prided herself on knowing without being told, on understanding without words. She was very good at her job; she anticipated. So despite what the clients said, occasionally Kate would make suggestions based on their demeanor and how they phrased the things they claimed to want. She would touch a hand, caress a knee, and ask, "But perhaps that isn't what you _really_ desire." She would whisper, "No, Your Honor... your _darkest_ fantasy." 

Lucy wanted what she asked for, but she also wanted something else. Kate recognized the look of a subjugated wife, having been one herself. Lucy wanted to be taken and dominated. But she also wished for power of her own. Kate began to play on the desire. Referring to Lucy as "ma'am" and "Lady Lucy." She kept her chin down when speaking, played demure whenever Lucy was looking at her.

One afternoon, as Lucy waited in the parlor, Kate undressed and entered the room on hands and knees. She heard the sharp intake of Lucy's breath, then the rapid panting of arousal. Kate sat up, hands behind her back and breasts pushed forward, and looked up through her lashes.

"What shall we have this afternoon, my Lady?"

~*~

Lucy lifted Irene's foot and kissed the side of her shoe. She closed her eyes to run her tongue along the supple, dark leather, and the flat of her tongue moved from cool leather to the warm flesh of Irene's ankle. She slipped the shoe off, kissed up the arch, and took the first two toes into her mouth. She moved from one toe to the next, opening her eyes to look up at Irene. Irene, in her prim and proper business suit, hair up in a bun, looking ever so polite if not for the nude woman sucking her foot.

"What do you think, Kate?"

Lucy turned her head. Kate was lying on her side across the bed, her chin propped up on one fist, the other hand between her legs. "Lovely," Kate sighed.

Irene snapped her fingers. "Up. I think Kate has done enough watching for this afternoon."

~*~

Irene knelt between Kate's spread legs, her strap-on angled up and pressing into the tight ass of the Prime Minister's wife. She had her hands on Lucy's hips, holding her steady as Kate angled the tip of her own strap-on into their client's sex. Irene had her head to one side, watching the profile of Lucy's reaction. Lips parted, cheeks bright pink, eyes closed and lashes fluttering as she was filled. Kate moved her hand up the outside of Lucy's thigh to cover Irene's hand, a signal that she was ready, and Irene whispered, "Is this what you want, Lady Luce?"

"Yes..."

Irene and Kate timed their thrusts perfectly, having practiced this before. To include Kate in her sessions was rare and only happened with the most illustrious clients, but Irene adored it. She kissed a line from Lucy's ear, down her throat, to her shoulder. She parted her lips and stroked the warm flesh, tasting sweat, moving faster in response to Kate's increased tempo, and Lucy laid her head back against Irene's shoulder as she cried out in pleasure.

Irene moved her hand to stroke Lucy's clit, looking down to meet Kate's eye. 

Kate licked her lips.

Irene winked.

~*~

Irene lounged in her battle dress, one leg casually draped over the other. She nursed a cup of tea, brewed to perfection as always. Classical music was playing from the stereo in the corner, providing a nice accompaniment to the groans and slapping flesh coming from the carpet in front of her. Lucy was on top of Kate, one hand on her shoulder while the fingers of the other were steepled on the carpet. Lucy thrust hard, face contorted with exertion as her hips slapped once more against Kate's. The first one to come would be punished, and the other would be brought off by Irene's hands and tongue. 

Kate, on hands and knees, lifted her head and met her partner's eye.

Pinkie extended, Irene took another sip of tea to wet her suddenly dry mouth. She actually didn't care which of them won so long as it happened soon.

~*~

Doors opened for Irene Adler. Doors that would otherwise remain closed to dignitaries and rulers swung open on hinges that moved so easily they might have been greased. All it took was a smile and a knowing glance and her passage was assured. Broadfell Prison was an unusual place, to be certain, but she was always up for an adventure. She thought of her sobriquet 'the adventuress,' in some circles a polite term for whore. As far as she was concerned, whores were the ones doing it for free. She was a courtesan, a professional. 

The visitation room was dark and dank, Gothic as the rest of the place, and Irene felt like a rose growing in broken concrete as she sat perched on the edge of the hard plastic chair that had been offered to her. The door across the room opened and the prisoner was escorted out. She was beautiful even without cosmetics, dressed in a drab gray top and sweatpants. She looked haunted and lost, but determined.

"Well. Hello, dear. Lucy, was it?"

"Yes." Lucy sat and waited for the guard to leave before she spoke again. "And we have met before, Mistress."

Irene raised an eyebrow.

~*~

Irene removed her gloves after folding herself into the backseat of her sedan. Kate drove without asking the question that had dogged both their minds since the summons arrived, and Irene let the silence hang. "A very odd individual," she murmured. But familiar, in some damnably vague way. When she spoke of a shared history, Irene wanted to believe it. And the world had felt so truly peculiar these past few weeks, who was to say what was mad? Perhaps this anonymous prisoner really was married to the Prime Minister.

"What did she want?" Kate finally asked.

Irene met Kate's eye in the rearview mirror. "She would like us to gather a few items to make something... well. Impossible. Have you ever heard of the secret books of Saxon?"

"No, ma'am."

"Nor I." Irene gazed out the window, lips pursed. It would be an interesting adventure, at the very least.

~*~

When Lucy arrived at the flat, Irene didn't ask how the potion had worked. Odd days. Even those in power weren't entirely sure what had happened. Some said aliens, but Irene chose to ignore their chattering. Lucy looked revitalized, the true person rather than the shell Irene had met in prison. She wore a simple suit, something from the charity bin, but she wore it extremely well. No makeup, her hair still cut in severe bangs across her forehead. But her eyes shone with power, and Irene couldn't help but accept her inside.

They sat in the parlor, where Lucy recounted her impossible story. And when Kate took Lucy's hand, and Irene crowded against her side, Lucy closed her eyes in a mixture of desire and regret.

"No, please. Don't. I want to, but I can't pay," Lucy said. "I'm dead. No funds, no access to anything. So no matter how much I crave..." Her voice trailed off and she looked at Irene and Kate with desperate hunger. "Please. Don't."

Kate looked at Irene, and a silence exchange passed between them. Irene wet her lips and extended her leg across Lucy's lap. Kate took her partner's ankle and stroked it. 

"From what I've gathered," Irene said, "you've paid quite handsomely for services I never provided." She brushed a curled finger down Lucy's cheek. "Whatever shall be done about that, Lady Luce?"

"Irene Adler," Lucy whispered, pressing against her mistress, her lover. "I believe we can come up with an arrangement."


End file.
